ANDREW REICHARD

Andrew Reichard lives in Grand Rapids, Michigan with his wife and twin sons. His work has appeared in journals such as The Collagist, Black Static, Into the Void, decomP, and others. Connect with him on Twitter @DrewReichard.

AN EXCERPT FROM “A PRAYER”

I’ve                |

I’ve been climbing up these stairs for                Let me—huh—let me just—sit down a catch—that is: catch my breath, that is—rest a moment                The air is quite probably thinner up here, I should be wary of it—the air| 

I’ve—my—in such                One says whew!

That is—the sun and stairs—oh, and God, the cloud! Behind me, I hadn’t seen it before just                |

Under me: there are stairs. Yes, that’s—but how did I come by this certain place, that is—?                |

 Made of a hard light grey stone, possibly—but I’m not a mineralist or—but possibly limestone seems plausible. Probably not marble. I wouldn’t believe this was marble if I were told it was marble. Anyway, hard light grey stone going on for—seems quite endless|

And very regular! 

                |  

Though I began climbing before the sun was—I’m still—climbing, and it’s now quite evening. Quite evening! Though, I can still see                If, sitting here, I look straight out in the direction I’ve                |

I see what looks like a great colossal pillar of cloud that the sun is magnifying (that way’s west then, the land beyond) and burning through in its descent, rays of errant sun strafing the land before me like artillery—artillery! No! No, no artillery. Just the cloud and the sun, both silent, both descending toward the land, one going toward it, the other beyond it, and then we’ll have night, and what am I to do then? 

I don’t know| 

Each and every stair is very narrow                | 

One would only be wide enough for me to stretch myself out upon if I hadn’t any arms or shoulders, which would not be preferable. They are very sharp, too, the stairs. Leaning up or back against them causes tremendous pain (which is to say, discomfort). That is the situation|

As for what’s to either side of the stairs—though the breadth of the stairs as a group, called a case or a flight; though I haven’t thought of this assemblage in those terms and shouldn’t hence (because I feel it would be unwise), would be wide enough to drive a circus up the steep of, if elephants and the like could climb stairs                As for what’s to either side of the stairs: there are trees|

Just the tops of them. Green moving leafy foliage filled with breeze and, in the daytime, I saw and heard birds| 

Now I hear only what is most probably a significant number of cicadas, or another insect of that ilk. An exaggerated and neurotic noise if ever there was one such noise in nature’s stock of noises| 

That is the situation                |

I have a tendency to—I’m afraid                | 

Read more of Andrew’s work in his novella Vessel and in Solum Journal Volumes I and II.

Listen to our interview with Andrew on Solum Podcast.